


Tie a Knot and Hang On

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Coming Untouched, Desperate Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Spoilers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, semi canon compliant, slight daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:41:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Despite it all, Hughie comes crawling back to Butcher.
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Hughie Campbell
Comments: 16
Kudos: 60





	Tie a Knot and Hang On

**Author's Note:**

> finally getting around to binging season 2 of the boys and the last half of ep3 was just...so much. decided i needed to write some desperate, needy sex, and this happened! there's def some inspo from aishahiwatari's fics as far as the nature of hughie and butcher's relationship. 
> 
> big thanks to han for beta'ing even tho she's not caught up yet! 
> 
> enjoy!

Despite the fact it’s  _ his _ bedroom, Hughie creeps into the room and crawls into his bed as though it’s  _ actually  _ Butcher’s.

Butcher had unceremoniously decided Hughie’s sad excuse for a room was also his—no, really, he hadn’t actually said a word, just stalked off past the door barely hanging on its hinges like he owned the joint. And Hughie hadn’t protested, even with Frenchie’s and MM’s knowing looks aimed his way. 

Hughie’s not protesting now, either, as he climbs onto the rickety, squeaky bed. Butcher’s eyes weigh on him like concrete blocks strapped to his ankles, but they don't slow him down. Especially not when they rake down his naked body, clearly pleased. Hughie’s only spurred on as Butcher kicks the blanket out of the way, even more so when Butcher shoves his sweats down to reveal his own half chub.

It’s a stupid idea. It’s been so long, and Hughie still has all this resentment building up in his chest. He still feels like he might snap at any moment, or worse collapse. He still feels like a livewire out of control. But he thinks about Butcher giving up his one, mostly-guaranteed shot at rescuing Becca just to save Hughie, and… Hughie swallows, heart thudding uncomfortably loud in his chest. He thinks of the look Butcher had given him as they watched the report on Kenji’s death, and he feels warm all over. 

“Please,” Hughie breathes as he situates himself in Butcher’s lap. 

Big, calloused hands roam Hughie’s body without hesitation. They skirt his hips first, detouring up his bare chest to tweak at his nipples before coming around to his ass. Butcher takes two handfuls of his ass, a gesture as possessive as it is appreciative, before sliding two fingers along his crack. Hughie forces himself not to tense as Butcher probes two fingers at his asshole to find him wet and ready and open. 

Butcher sucks in a sharp breath. The hand on Hughie’s ass tightens, nails biting into fatty flesh. “Oh, love,” he murmurs, almost an afterthought. 

Hughie whines. He tilts his head back to stop the tears suddenly filling his eyes, blinks them away as best he can. One still slips out the corner of his eye, trailing down his left cheek before disappearing when it drips off his chin. He braces his hands on Butcher’s furred chest, letting the grit of his chest hair ground him.

He’s _missed_ Butcher, despite it all. 

He hates it, hates the man, but loves him too. It’s been so long since he’s had Butcher’s hands on him, their mouths pressed together. It’s been so long since he’s been filled, fucked full of come like it’s all he’s good for. His anger had only intensified with Butcher’s carelessness, his casual dismissal of how he betrayed them all. Not just Hughie, but MM and Frenchie and Kimiko too. It doesn’t matter if they could’ve freed themselves from Vought’s clutches, Butcher still left them behind. But then he saved Hughie, even though he didn’t have to. He could’ve left Hughie behind again, but he didn’t. 

Hughie doesn’t fully register he’s sobbing until Butcher’s arms wrap around him and hold him close. It’s intimate, devastatingly so, and brings Hughie back to the present. Hughie sinks forward and melts against Butcher. He hides his face in the juncture of Butcher’s neck and shoulder and cries, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Butcher doesn’t tease him for it, doesn’t scoff, doesn’t even roll his eyes. 

Butcher simply strokes his hands along Hughie’s back, soothing and gentle. He turns and presses the most delicate kiss to the side of Hughie’s head and it feels like some kind of promise. Hughie’s not entirely naive. Becca is alive and Butcher’s only goal has been getting back to her. Hughie doesn’t begrudge Butcher for that, or Becca for that matter. Hughie knows what he and Butcher have can’t last, but that makes him all the more determined to make the most of it. 

Butcher seems to sense the shift in him even as the tears are still drying on Hughie’s cheeks. Despite his earlier prodding, Butcher returns a hand to Hughie’s ass, slips two fingers inside him without preamble. Hughie shudders at the feeling, no burn and all stretch. He rolls his hips against Butcher’s fingers eagerly. He’s missed the roughness of the man’s fingers, particularly inside him. 

Butcher adds a third finger without Hughie having to ask and it wrings a broken noise from his throat. Privacy in this decrepit basement is practically nonexistent so Hughie is sure everyone can hear him. He doesn’t even care. He doesn’t want to hold back. He lets every whimper and whine drip from his lips as Butcher fingerfucks him far more than he needs. He never wants it to end, even though he’s aching for Butcher’s cock; the sooner his cock is inside Hughie, the sooner this moment is over. 

Hughie doesn’t need to voice any of this, though. He doesn’t know how Butcher reads him so swiftly, so easily, like an adult reading a child’s book. Hughie isn’t sure what gives him away, whether it’s his eyes are his lips or his _everything_. It doesn’t really matter, because Butcher seems content to finger him until Hughie’s on the brink of crying for a whole other reason.

Hughie’s torn between begging for more—hell, part of him wants to ask for Butcher’s whole hand inside him, even though this is hardly the time or the place—and begging Butcher to hurry up. He doesn’t get the chance to beg for anything, though, because Butcher sits up. He places a hand at the small of Hughie’s back, huge and warm and comforting.

Quietly, Butcher says, “Ain’t going anywhere, sweetheart.” He kisses the corner of Hughie’s gaping mouth, kisses the faint bruise still lingering on his left cheek. “Not again. Not without you.”

It could be a lie. It could be a half-truth. Butcher may very well want to believe it—Hughie sure wants to. He doesn’t, not entirely. He’s _not_ naive, no matter what MM or Frenchie might think; he’s braced and ready for the inevitable hurt when Butcher rightfully chooses Becca over him. 

But today, Butcher chose Hughie instead, so he nods. He presses his forehead to Butcher’s, cups at his bearded jaw and kisses him sloppily, clumsily. 

“Please,” Hughie breathes against Butcher’s lips. “Fuck me.” 

Butcher doesn’t respond other than to pull his fingers from Hughie’s hole. He smears the residual lube from his fingers over his own cock, gathering precome from the tip to help. Hughie doesn’t need Butcher’s hands on his hips to guide him—riding Butcher’s dick is as familiar to him as riding an actual bicycle—but he doesn’t complain about the help either. He looks down and enjoys the sight of tanned, rough hands on his pale waist. He’s always been scrawny and hilariously white, and living in a basement for weeks on end hasn’t helped. 

Hughie sinks down slowly despite his thorough prepping. It doesn’t burn, doesn’t hurt, but the stretch is enough to halt him. The head pops in and Hughie shakes in a full body shiver. For an embarrassing moment, he thinks he might come from that alone. It’s that thought, the fear of the moment ending too soon, that spurs him on. 

Hughie drops onto Butcher’s cock with equal parts grace and frenzy. Butcher lets out a groan like he’s been suckerpunched and his hands clench hard enough on Hughie’s hips to bruise. Hughie lets out a moan of his own, wanton and echoing in the little dingy room. He sounds like a slut to his own ears and the thought makes his cheeks burn, all down his neck and to his nipples. He feels so needy—has felt needy since the moment he sat beside Butcher on the couch. It’s what compelled him to creep into his own bedroom like a battered dog, looking for something he wasn’t sure he’d earned. 

Eventually Hughie’s moan trails off into desperate pants. He sits there, impaled on Butcher’s cock, and commits the feeling to memory. It’s not like he’d forgotten what it feels like, really, but he wants to relish this. Wants to bask in this feeling, including Butcher’s almost reverent touch and his heavy, dark stare. 

“Butcher,” Hughie chokes out, emotion threatening to overwhelm him again. 

“Hughie,” Butcher replies. His hands flex on Hughie’s hips and help to lift him up on shaking thighs but rather than letting him drop back down against, Butcher thrusts up fast and hard. 

It drags another shout from Hughie’s chest, as do the next several thrusts, each more brutal than the last. Butcher fucks up into him relentlessly, so fast that Hughie doesn’t even have a chance to feel empty before he’s full again. The sound of skin against skin is a lewd slap, the filthiest sort of rhythm. Again, Hughie thinks of their friends in the basement and what it sounds like to them, probably the world’s worst porno. 

Hughie’s body burns with shame and arousal and he clenches around Butcher’s cock. “Please,” he whimpers, not entirely sure what he’s asking for. 

Butcher knows exactly what to give him, though. He slows his thrusts and allows Hughie to sink down onto his cock again. When Butcher is in to the hilt, he starts to grind up in a slow and dirty rhythm. It’s hardly the dirtiest thing they’ve ever done in bed together—or out of bed, for that matter—but right now it’s the hottest thing Hughie’s ever experienced. The insistent press of Butcher’s dick inside him, just the slightest movements to keep Hughie’s nerves alight and sparking, is driving his pleasure into override. 

“Hughie, love,” Butcher grunts. His chest is heaving with the effort to fuck up into Hughie slow and close. “Come for me, doll, come for daddy.” 

Rage ignites in Hughie’s chest like a flashbang— _daddy’s home_ , Butcher had said only a few days prior, smug and righteous—but it’s gone in an instant. Instead, Hughie lets out a broken cry and slams himself down to meet Butcher’s thrusts. The cacophony of sounds begins anew, then, skin slapping skin and Hughie’s endless stream of moans blending together, underscored with the occasional growl from Butcher. 

“C’mon,” Butcher coaxes, though he makes no move to touch Hughie’s cock. “Come for me, darling, just like this.” 

Part of Hughie is still angry, might _always_ be angry; that part of Hughie hates the way his body responds, how his cock twitches and his orgasm abruptly crests. As the euphoria takes over his brain, though, Hughie just can’t bring himself to care as much anymore. He tilts his head back and drags his hands down Butcher’s chest and comes. White splatters over the gentle red welts as Hughie loses himself in the feeling. He’s pretty sure he blacks out, spots and lights swimming behind his eyelids as his whole body tenses, cock pulsing and hole clenching. 

He comes to his senses as Butcher’s thrusts jostle him, eager and desperate. He clings to Butcher despite the oversensitivity; he clenches down again and listens to Butcher’s swear, muttered against Hughie’s sweat-slick skin. When Butcher comes inside him, pressed as deep inside as he can go, Hughie keens a final humiliating, needy noise. His eyes roll back at the feeling of Butcher’s cock spurting inside him, cock throbbing with each load. The slick sounds get slicker, until Butcher’s thrusts finally slow.

When Butcher tips back onto the bed, sated, he takes Hughie with him. He makes no move to pull out, instead seeming content to let his hands roam along Hughie’s back once again. Hughie doesn’t mind, since he’s not sure he can even feel his legs, not sure he could even get himself off Butcher’s cock if he wanted to. 

Hughie settles on Butcher’s chest instead. They’ll be sticky and gross in a few minute’s time, and it’ll be even worse by the time they shower tomorrow. Hughie doesn’t even care. They don’t talk, even though they maybe should. No, they definitely should, because what they have is the furthest thing from healthy and Hughie knows that but it’s just so hard to give a damn in this afterglow. 

Hughie swallows. He doesn’t even know where he would start if he were to say something. He opens his mouth and though nothing but a ragged gasp comes out, Butcher hums in what sounds like agreement. 

Butcher doesn’t say anything, but he does press another achingly gentle kiss to Hughie’s temple. Hughie closes his eyes, lest he cry again. He lets himself relax entirely on top of Butcher, confident that the man can move him when he wants to, if he wants to at all. 

Talking can wait, Hughie decides, as he lets himself drift to sleep for the first time since Butcher left him in that parking lot. 


End file.
